


Wait For You

by FutureAlien



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not as horrible as it sounds, Oblivious Arthur, Protective Merlin, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureAlien/pseuds/FutureAlien
Summary: Merlin tore his gaze away from the dead man in the bed. Immediately, it fell upon a book that lay open on the bedside table."To break the curse placed upon the prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot," it read, "someone must sit by his side and read from this book, fanning his face and chasing the flies away, for three years, three hours and three minutes."(Retelling of a Persian fairy tale)
Relationships: Arthur Pendragon/Sophia (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 363





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! I hope you are doing well and managing this quarantine with minimal difficulty <3 This story is based on one of my favourite fairy tales of all time. It's a Persian fairy tale called "Princess Tscherkesse" and it's basically an edgier, gender-swapped, less-rapy version of Sleeping Beauty. 
> 
> This chapter contains descriptions of (a lot of) dead people, and the next chapter will have a suicide attempt in it. Please stay safe while reading this, your mental health is more important than some story <3
> 
> I'll post this in two parts, the next part will be done somewhere next week. Until then, Ireally hope you enjoy this :) I posted this from my phone so let me know if the layout is shitty, then I'll edit it. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always super appreciated, please let me know what you think :D I'm going to stop talking now, enjoy the story!

Once upon a time, there was a small farm in a big kingdom, and on that farm lived a woman and her son. The woman, who went by the name of Hunith, was a kind and loving mother, and she doted on her son with all her heart. The son in question was a young man with unimaginable powers. His name was Emrys, the druids would tell you, but that is a story for another time. For now, it is enough to know that his mother called him Merlin. 

Merlin was a very bright, if somewhat clumsy young man. Most people in his village liked him, and were grateful for the help that his magic offered when the work became too heavy. On top of that, Merlin had a very special gift.

Alright, it was less a gift and more a side effect of being unable to control inhuman amounts of magic, but the result was the same. When Merlin smiled, the whole town was bathed in a warm sunlight. But when he cried, the rain came pouring from the sky. 

Fortunately, Merlin was a very cheerful young man, so the people of Ealdor (for that was the name of his town) lived in an abundance of sunshine. And when the fields dried out and the harvest threatened to be lost, the pain of his friends made Merlin cry bitter tears. Then the land would blessed with rain again, until all the farmers’ worries were gone and the sun would break out again together with Merlin’s smile. It was the best weather arrangement anyone could hope for. 

*

“Merlin, I swear to-”

Before Will could finish his sentence, a particularly stinky cow pat materialised in the place where he had intended to place his foot. With a swift movement, perfected through the years of dealing with Merlin’s (in this case, literal) shit, the boy managed to sidestep just in time to avoid a shoe full of steaming cow droppings. 

“Ha!” he cried out triumphantly, pointing at his friend. “Not this time, you bastard.”

Merlin nodded his head in respect. The sun shone bright overhead. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you later,” he said, the mischievous look in his eye enough to make Will laugh. 

“Fine by me,” he declared, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “If you want me to just stay here and let you sow the field alone, be my guest.” And he stood back comfortably, chin pointed forward in challenge. 

“Alright, alright,” Merlin acquiesced. With one movement of his hand, the reeking dung was gone again. He grabbed a bag of seeds and threw it to his best friend, laughing loudly at the curses Will uttered when the bag hit him full in his unsuspecting stomach. 

Ignoring the expletives pouring out of his friend, Merlin skipped along the field to a row of mulled earth that had yet to be filled with seeds. Moving to his knees, he reached for his own bag to continue sowing, when suddenly, a little bird flew towards him and landed on a big lump of mud right in front of Merlin’s face.

“Hello there,” Merlin said to the little creature. He took in its colourful array of feathers. 

“You’re not from around here, are you? You look like you’d belong to a king! Come to see how a poor farmer works, have you?” He smiled at the bird, that had stayed surprisingly fearless despite the sound of Merlin’s voice. Somewhere behind him, Will was probably laughing his ass off at the sight of Merlin talking to a bird, but Merlin didn’t bother to look over his shoulder. He kept his eyes fastened on the little bird, which hopped around a bit, and then cocked it’s yellow head, as if it were considering the man before it. 

It opened its red beak. Merlin, eager to hear what sound such a wonderful bird would make, leaned a bit forward, careful not to scare the animal away. 

Yet instead of singing a song, or squeaking, or making just about any acceptable bird noise, the bird spoke with a high, inhuman, yet understandable voice.

“Work or don’t work,” it twittered, “you’ll never marry any but a dead man.”

Merlin was so surprised, that he fell over. When he landed on the soft dirt, he just saw the bird fly away over him. “What the fuck!” he shouted after it. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Merlin?” Against the background of a darkening sky, Will’s head came into view. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern clear on his face. “Who were you talking to?”

But when Merlin tried to answer him, he found that nothing came out but a sob. Cold droplets started falling down around them as Merlin cried, unable to shake the bird’s words from his mind. 

Will helped his friend into a sitting position, cursing as the rain turned the ground around them to slippery mud. 

“You know I love you, but this rain thing is really inconvenient sometimes, you know that?” Will muttered as his feet tried and failed to find purchase in the mud. He gave up and let himself fall back on his ass. His pants were ruined anyways. 

“There, there,” he shushed, patting Merlin’s wet back. The droplets became a little sparser, which Will took as a sign that Merlin was calming down. Later, Will was going to tickle this idiot friend of his until he laughed enough to dry all his clothes again, Will decided. “Now what was that all about?”

Just as Will asked the question, Merlin saw something move in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw that the strange bird had landed just a few feet away. 

“Go away!” Merlin shouted, and thunder rumbled in the sky. The bird stayed put, opened its beak and said: “Work or don’t work, you’ll never marry any but a dead man.” After that, it flew away again. 

“Did he-” Will stammered, “did that bird just fucking talk to us?”

Merlin nodded. He could feel another wave of tears coming. The first time, he might have believed the bird to have been mistaken, but even that slim possibility had now gone. 

“Maybe it just copied something it heard from its owner,” Will offered. “That’s it. Just some meaningless repetition.” He added cheerfully: “It’s not as if you were going to marry a man anyways!”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say. Another burst of rain doused Will as Merlin sniffled.

“About that…”

Merlin stopped halfway through his sentence. He squeezed his eyes together and could just make out a figure, fruitlessly shielding herself against the storm with a shawl, making her way towards them.

A small ray of sunlight broke through the grey clouds when Merlin recognised his mother. 

“Merlin!” she shouted, her voice carrying off with the wind. “What’s wrong?”

Merlin shrugged. He felt bad for soaking everyone to the bone with his tears, but how could he be expected to stop crying when he would never marry anyone but a dead man?

Hunith reached them and enveloped Merlin in her warm arms. The wind lay down like a dog called to his kennel. Raindrops still hit the earth, but slower now, with less force to them.

“There was this fucking bird…” Will started. Hunith shot him a sharp look, and the young man scraped his throat. “There was a bird,” he corrected sheepishly. 

Just then, the bird landed on Merlin’s hand. “Work or don’t work, you’ll never marry any but a dead man,” it repeated cheerfully, before taking off into the dark sky.

They sat in silence in the rain for a moment. 

“Merlin likes men,” Will offered, breaking the silence. “Not sure if you knew that,” he rambled on, “I know I didn’t, not that I mind of course, he’s still my best mate, obviously, as if anyone else will have him, but I guess it’s worth saying to understand the story, because I thought that bird was just saying sh-, uhh, _things_ that didn’t make sense, but they do, except of course they don’t because Merlin can get any man he wants, I’m sure, and-”

“Shhhh,” Hunith told him, stroking his hair. There were some tears in her eyes, too. 

Hunith was a woman who had seen the world. She knew that birds had no reason to lie. So she cried for the fate of her wonderful son, who would never marry any but a dead man.

*

The mother, the friend and the warlock all sat there, huddled together in the rain. After a while, the mother decided that something had to be done. If bad luck knew where they lived, she figured, they’d simply had to leave. So they packed their bags with everything they needed: all their clothes (for they knew not how long they would stay gone), some food (for even an exile must eat), and of course Merlin’s books of magic (for he still needed to learn to control his power). They packed all this onto their loyal grey horse, and left before daybreak the following day. Will asked Merlin if he could please stop crying, or else they’d all be wet again, and a small smile slipped onto the sorcerer’s face. After that, the warm sun was their constant companion.

They found a cave, in which no animals lived, where they lay down to rest. It was warm and sheltered, and they decided that they could live there for a while. Yet when they ventured outside the next day, tragedy struck. While looking for some berries to pick, they came across a large castle gate. Curious as to what was hiding behind the closed gate, Will tried to open it, but it didn’t budge. Hunith tried next, but it didn’t budge, and then Merlin said: “Let me try.”

He pressed the handle down. At the first touch of the young man, the gate swung open, revealing an overgrown path, leading to the dark shape of a castle. Merlin stepped inside, overcome with curiosity and excitement. The moment he stepped into the garden, the gate fell shut behind him, separating him from his companions with a loud clang. Both his mother and his friend shouted at the top of their lungs, but he could not hear a word, and continued, as if in a trance, up the path towards the castle.

*

Here’s the thing: Merlin knew that the gate had closed behind him. The metal _clang_ was pretty hard to miss. He also knew that both his mother and Will must be screaming his name in alarm by now, and he hated the thought of leaving them in such a state of distress. He did not know for certain whether the gate would open again if he turned around right now, although it might. He felt, however, with absolute certainty, that if he left without at least entering that castle, he would regret it for the rest of his life. 

So he took a first tentative step onto the path. Something in his chest tugged, and before he knew it he was half-running towards the castle looming in the distance, trying to keep his balance on the slicky moss-covered stones. 

There was definitely something very wrong about this place, his brain registered. For all the trees and weeds flowering around him, there was no sign of animal life in the garden: no squirrels, no butterflies, no birds. (Not that he minded the absence of birds particularly. He’d had quite enough of the intrusive little buggers, thank you very much.)

As he neared the entrance, more and more of the castle came into view. It did not look inviting to say the least. In fact, ‘ruin’ was more of a proper name for what remained of the building. Imposing walls covered in moss and vines reached towards the sky, the stones stacked together precariously, looking ready to crumble to dust any minute. 

It occurred to Merlin that if ever there was a place for an evil sorcerer to hide out, this would probably be it. That being said, the tugging in his chest made it almost impossible to turn away, so he doggedly walked on. That whole unable-to-leave-thing didn’t bode well either, he mused, climbing the steps to the entrance. He was so engrossed by the big wooden doors, which were rotting in their hinges, that he almost didn’t notice the guards standing on either side. 

By some stroke of luck, they didn’t seem to have noticed him either. Merlin glanced at the both of them, unsure of what to do next. Neither of them moved. They didn’t even look his way. They just stood there, completely still, covered head to toe in armour, their eyes staring stoically ahead. 

Whatever was going on with those two, Merlin decided, was not worth his time. Shooting a weirded-out last look to both sides, Merlin reached for the moldy wood of the door and pushed it open.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dusty twilight inside the hallway. As soon as he could make out the shapes in the room, a terrible dread settled in his stomach. He buckled over, clutching his own belly, desperately wishing he could unsee the scene before him. 

The cavernous hall stretched out before him, feeding into a dozen broad corridors with extinguished torches. The walls were hung with tapestries so dusty that it was impossible to see what they depicted, or covered in murals flaking off the stone. Whoever had lorded over this castle must have been wealthy, if the golden candelabras suspended from the ceiling were anything to go by, though they were covered in fine layers of cobwebs. Everything looked to be in a terrible state of disrepair, and the slow devastation of what must once have been a magnificent building was enough to make anyone step back. 

But none of it all was anything compared to the people.

There were so many people. Coming from every rank in society, they stood together in the hall of this forgotten castle. There were servants and nobles, beggars and scholars, men and women dressed in fine clothes that looked like they came from the other side of the world. There were animals too, rats and cats and dogs and pigeons, and a particularly fat piglet in the arms of a scullery maid. Coming down stairways, hanging over cookpots, hiding in alcoves: everywhere were people, crowding together in the great hall. And all of them were dead.

Merlin took in a shaky breath and steadied himself. Slowly, he raised his eyes. All the people looked as if they had been frozen halfway through their daily lives. A woman held up an admonishing finger to a little boy; a merchant had his whole face contracted as if he were to break the ghastly silence any second now with a loud sneeze. Some people, admittedly, had fallen over, lying on the floor like statues, but most seemed to have died right where they stood. 

Merlin willed himself to place one foot after the other. Slowly, he made his way past the legion of corpses, all staring at him with empty eyes. Every inch of Merlin’s skin was covered in goosebumps. The beating of his hard, so loudly and rapidly in his throat, seemed to reverberate through the silence, as if mocking the dead around him.

Now he understood why the guards had not forbidden him entrance - he suspected they were merely lifeless husks as well, staying in the position they had last held in life forever after. 

He should leave. He should leave right now, while he still could. Something truly horrifying had happened here. Something that had killed all these innocent people. 

_Magic,_ he knew. A terrifying, powerful magic.

Still, he let his feet carry him deeper and deeper inside the castle. Perhaps he was enchanted, had fallen under the spell that had cursed every living thing inside these walls. Everything, except the flies, it seemed. The spiders and the flies had survived. For some reason, that calmed Merlin. That was something he knew: spiders and flies were very hard to get rid of.

The further he ventured into the castle, the more he realised that it hadn’t belonged to just some lord. Well before he reached the throne room, Merlin had realised that only a king could provide for so many subjects. 

When he did enter the throne room, his breath hitched. Upon the throne sat a man, stern and proud, a heavy golden crown upon his head. There was a smaller throne beside him, though it was empty, with a thick coating of dust upon the seat. There were some courtiers, too, gathered around on the edges of the room, leaving a single pathway towards the throne in the middle. Silent and motionless they stood. Every single gaze seemed to be fastened on Merlin. Hundreds of dead eyes bored into him from the sides, and in front, perched on the royal throne, the king’s vacant stare left Merlin breathless. 

All around him, the flies buzzed.

Merlin scrambled back, out of the throne room, back to the corridor, anywhere but there where the terrifying fate of the royal court was so very palpable. Shaking like a leaf, Merlin turned into the first hallway he could find, falling over his own feet in his need to get away. He bumped into a man holding a rag, bowed over to clean the stairs. 

“Sorry!” Merlin exclaimed. The word echoed through the hallway. The man - corpse - didn’t reply, of course. It simply tumbled forward, falling with its head against the next step. The sound made Merlin’s blood freeze in his veins. The desire to flee grew stronger with every step as he ran up the stairs, haphazardly avoiding the bodies frozen upon them. 

Higher and higher the stairs led him, further and further away from his escape. There were less people here, though their absence was no less eery. Panting, Merlin circled up and up into what must be a tower, until at last the staircase ended in front of a door.

Carefully, Merlin approached the door, which was covered in gold leaf, reflecting the afternoon light pouring in from a high window. Merlin took a deep breath, both to bring down his heart rate after sprinting up a mile of stairs in mortal terror, as well as to brace himself for what he would find inside. However, the moment he turned the handle and opened the gilded door, a feeling of peacefulness engulfed the young sorcerer. Here, too, was a dead man. But he was alone,and, lying on his back between the dark red sheets of a large bed, one could be deceived to think he was merely asleep. 

Softly closing the door behind him, Merlin entered the bedroom. As he approached the man in the bed, he could see that beneath the deathly pallor, he was young and quite handsome. His eyes were closed, and his face bore a lazy smile, as if he was having a particularly pleasant dream. 

Reaching the foot of the bed, Merlin could see that a small layer of dust had settled on the man’s face, and he walked over to brush it off with a careful, almost tender finger. The man’s face was cold to the touch, yet despite the clear passage of time since his death, his body had not succumbed to the natural process. None of the bodies in this castle had, Merlin realised with a start. Tentatively, something like hope started to peek into his heart. Clearly, these people had not died a natural death. There were no signs of a fight or an explosion, or even an illness. They had simply been anchored in time and space, losing their lives right in the middle of it. 

This was magic. It had to be. A curse of some kind.

And if it was a curse, then maybe Merlin, possibly the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth, might be able to lift it. 

Merlin tore his gaze away from the dead man in the bed. Immediately, it fell upon a book that lay open on the bedside table, as if inviting him to read it. Merlin picked it up, blew the dust off of the pages, coughing as it drifted back into his face. Next to the book, he noticed, there was a paper fan, folded close. He let it be for the moment and turned his attention to the book.

 _To break the curse_ , it read, very helpfully.

_To break the curse placed upon the prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, someone must sit by his side and read from this book, fanning his face and chasing the flies away, for three years, three hours and three minutes._

Quickly, Merlin leafed through the next pages. It seemed that whoever took this task upon them was not allowed to sleep or leave the room, or to cease the prescribed actions for more than a few moments, or else it would all be in vain. 

That settled it for Merlin (although, if he were honest, his heart had decided to do anything necessary to lift the curse as soon as he had laid eyes upon the young prince). The requirements to break the curse were impossible to fulfill for an ordinary person. There was a reason the gate had opened under Merlin’s touch. It was the castle that had invited him in, begging to be saved. 

Without a second thought, Merlin picked up the fan and folded it out, moving it through the air to scare away the flies. He settled on the chair, placed the book on his lap, and began to read.

*

For many days and many nights, Merlin read the book. When his hands ached from fanning, he would let his magic take over for a while, keeping the fan suspended in the air, moving as if from its own volition, while Merlin poured over the next page. Many times was he tempted to give up. His eyes ached for lack of sleep, and even the food he conjured could not replete his energy. Yet his magic kept him awake beyond all possible strength. Thus, he was able to complete three years of his task.

In that time, he had read the book, heavy as it was, many times from beginning until the end. In it was regaled the tale of the castle, and how it came to be cursed. 

This way, Merlin learned of the bloodthirsty king Uther, who had ruled with an iron fist and condemned any user of magic to the pyre. The kingdom of Camelot had been powerful as well as affluent, but the king’s killings did not go unnoticed. His own son and daughter had started to turn against him - the daughter, Morgana, a sorceress herself, his son too noble to condone the slaughter. 

Threatened by their dissent, Uther became distrustful of all around him, punishing anyone whose actions he deemed suspicious. In the havoc that ensued, Morgana came to see that the crown prince was still too loyal to betray his father, and turned towards her half sister instead. This half sister was called Morgause, and the magic she practiced was very dark indeed. In her desire to kill the paranoid king and claim the throne for herself, Morgause uttered a spell that would have killed everyone inside the castle. Morgana, at seeing the hatred in her sister’s eyes, had tried to stop her spell.

She had failed for the most part - her magic was no match for Morgause. Yet she had within her heart still the traces of love and loyalty that bound her to Camelot. She had not been able to save her people, but she mitigated some of the curse’s effects. If someone were to show their love and devotion to her brother, the prince, he could still be saved.

Merlin often wondered what had happened to Morgana. Had she died with the others, sacrificing herself for her brother? Or had she escaped and lived her life outside these enchanted walls, where surely she would have grown old by now?

Lonely as he was, nobody in the tower but the prince’s body, the young sorcerer would often imagine that he was in that Camelot of old. The descriptions in the book were sparse, but after years of reading them, Merlin had thought up lives for everyone it mentioned.

Mostly, however, he thought of the prince before him. The book painted Arthur Pendragon as a noble man, loyal to a fault, the best swordsman in the land. But there were other traces of him as well, small lines that suggested the prince could be arrogant and thickheaded, a man who fell in love too easily, insecure and lonely. These were Merlin’s favourite parts of the book: the ones that allowed him to see the human behind the princely exterior, and made him feel like he knew him. When he stumbled upon one of those phrases, the sun broke through the clouds and illuminated the fields far and wide.

*

An incredible elation overcame Merlin when he looked at the tally he kept going on a sheet of paper he had found in a drawer. It had been three years since that first time he had sat down next to the prince’s bed. Three years! He was so close to breaking this wretched enchantment! 

At the same time, a fierce desperation overcame him. Often during the past years had this same desperation managed to keep him awake despite the clear exhaustion of his body. But now, with only three hours and three minutes left to go, Merlin knew he couldn’t do this anymore. His eyes were burning like fire, and his arms were so numb from all the fanning that he could no longer feel them there. Even his magic had run out and could no longer help him stay awake. He kept his eyes open with his fingers, letting them rest unseeing on the open page. But even that did not work - his eyes kept falling close, and the need for sleep was so overwhelming that he feared he would just keel over. 

“I can’t do it anymore, Arthur,” he whispered. He often spoke to the dead prince. It’s not as if he had anyone else to talk to. “I don’t want to lose three years over three miserable hours!”

With utmost difficulty, Merlin raised himself from his chair. He staggered towards the window on the other side of the room. His whole body protested the movement, but he walked on. Peering outside, he saw a young woman on horseback, accompanied by two knights in blue. 

“Lady, please, help me!” he called out of the window, and he saw her reign in her horse in surprise as she looked for the source of the voice. 

“Up here!” Merlin called, and her eyes shot up to meet his. He could barely see her, because she was very far down and his eyes were much too tired to properly do their job. What he could see, however, indicated that she must be rich. A golden circle rested on her long blonde hair, indicating that he might be talking to a princess, although he had no clue who she might be and was too tired to address her properly.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” she shouted back in return, her tone haughty but curious. 

“There is a curse upon this castle,” Merlin started. "In order to break it, someone must fan a dead prince and read from this book," he held up the heavy tome with one hand, "for three years, three hours and three minutes. I managed the three years, but I can't go on anymore. Will you help me, please? I cannot give up now."

The woman considered his words for a moment. "What will I get in return?" she asked.

Merlin frowned. He had never been rich, and whatever he had possessed, he had left behind in the cave on that fateful day on which he arrived to the castle. Still, he knew from the three years spent in this stuffy room that there was a treasure chest in the corner. He dragged himself towards it (he gave the book a cursory glance and waved his hand once to the prince, to make sure he didn't spend too long away from him) and managed to pry it open. Grabbing a string of pearls and some gold pieces from the chest, he returned to the window.

Merlin held up the riches so the woman could inspect them, and when she approved of them, simply threw them down. Her knights or whatever could get them for her if she wanted them so badly. All Merlin wanted was for her to get up here right now. 

His magic obliged with one last burst of energy, and he levitated the lady up and through the window. 

She was screaming and struggling against his magic's hold, but Merlin could no longer take note of sight or sound. He landed her on the floor of the room and unceremoniously pressed the book and fan into her hands. Then, before he could tell her anymore, the exhaustion of years and years without sleep washed over him, and he collapsed onto the floor. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a lot longer ( both in word count and in the time it took to write it) then originally anticipated, so my apologies for the wait. You have all been so kind about the first chapter, so I am super excited to see what you will think of this! 
> 
> Please do remember that this chapter contains an attempted suicide, stay safe!
> 
> One last thinh: I am literally posting this at 5:07 in the morning, so please excuse any typos or other weird things (or point them out to me!)  
> Hope you enjoy!!!!!

While the young sorcerer slept on the floor, the woman he had invited took the book in hand and followed its instructions. She sat down next to the dead prince and waved the flies away, her eyes flitting over the pages. 

When Merlin had thought her to be a princess, he had been right. She was the daughter of a man who had once been king, though his unjust and tyrannical rule had created many enemies. After her father had been killed and his throne taken, the princess had taken her most precious belongings and fled, accompanied by the few guards who were still on her side. She had wandered the land for many weeks now. She had been scared, first, that the sorcerer in the tower had recognised her, but once it had become clear that the man meant her no harm, she had felt grateful for the chance to sit somewhere other than in a saddle. 

As she sat and waved, the woman who still thought of herself as Princess Sophia, contemplated her sad fate. There are many ways to suffer, and the former princess Sophia suffered unkindly. She had never been a kind woman - royals hardly ever see a use for kindness. But the loss of her father, her easy life and her kingdom had left her more than unkind. They had left her embittered, resentful and desperate. So she sat and wept bitter tears of self-pity at the foot of the dead man’s bed.

Although Sophia’s hand soon started aching, time went by swiftly. Three hours were nothing, after all, compared to the three years Merlin had endured. One hour passed, then the second, then the third, and then the three minutes, too. 

Sophia sat and looked how the young man awakened from his death. A pinkness returned to his cheeks, a sigh escaped his lips, and then he stretched out his arms with a yawn and opened his blue eyes.

***

Arthur did not feel well. In fact, he felt as if he had just risen from the dead. Fair enough. Still, he had hoped that lying in a bed for literal years would at least make him feel well-rested. Instead, he felt groggy, and almost a bit hungover. What an absolutely great start this was. 

Forcing his dry eyes open, he inspected his bedroom. It looked exactly the same as it had before his unfortunate little encounter with death, though whoever had cleaned it had done a shabby job. There were still a few cobwebs in the corners, Arthur could see. Well, he supposed that conversation could wait a little while. 

Arthur turned his head. There she was. A beautiful blonde woman, sitting with the book cradled in her lap and the fan clutched in her delicate hand. 

“Is it you,” Arthur asked, mindful to sound as regal as possible ro impress the young lady, “who sat here by my bed for three years, three hours and three minutes, fulfilling the task necessary to bring me back to life?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I am.”” 

And then she smiled at him, and Arthur’s heart leapt a little. Who was he to complain about cobwebs? This beautiful woman had given up three years of her life to give him back his.

“How can I ever thank you for your loyalty, dedication and patience?” he asked. He honestly could not imagine how he could ever repay this debt, or why a woman who was young, rich and beautiful would waste such fruitful years for a man she didn’t know. But then the woman - the circlet resting on her golden locked indicated that she might be a princess - smiled at him again. It was a shy smile, almost bashful. 

Arthur couldn’t suppress his joy at this sight. He understood now, and he thanked his gods for sending such a wonderful girl as his saviour.

He leapt up from the bed and embraced her. 

“Three years, three hours and three minutes you have been my loyal, waiting bride, sacrificing everything to bring me back from death. Now I will show you my gratitude, and make you my wife and mistress of this grand castle.”

She laughed in joy then, and pressed a tender kiss on his cheek. It might have been foolish, but Arthur found he already loved her, even though he didn’t even know her name yet. But what did names matter after such a strong show of character? She had been loyal to him, and the dried tears on her cheeks proved her to be a sensitive woman who truly cared for his fate. Her bashful gaze showed her to be humble, and her soft lips told him that she loved him, too. Arthur thought his heart was quite justified in soaring as it was at the thought of marrying her.

After spending what felt like eternity in her arms, Arthur disentangled himself and took in the rest of his surroundings. To his surprise, a further inspection of the room revealed a tall, gangly man lying stretched out on the floor. 

“Who is that?” Arthur exclaimed, pointing at the man. Why the hell was there a peasant, albeit a handsome one, sleeping on his floor?

His saviour, who he had learned was called Sophia, and who was indeed a princess, stared at the man with wide eyes. Had she really not noticed this man before? Had she forgotten that there was a random guy snoozing a few feet away from her?

“I don’t know who he is,” Sophia said. Her voice shook with emotion. Tearing his eyes away from the stranger, Arthur looked at her face, which was contorted with an emotion he could not decipher.

“He is a traveller whom I asked up here to relieve me of my duties when they would prove too much,” she explained. “But he refused to help me, and started trying to woo me instead. When I told him I wanted no one but you, he became aggressive, and I had to knock him out with my book.” She held up the heavy tome to illustrate her story. 

“How horrifying!” Arthur commented. He returned his gaze to the unconscious man. How was it possible that Sophia was so good, and this man so bad? Should he not have bowed to someone of such high standing, and done whatever she asked of him? 

“I will make sure that he is punished,” Arthur said. “I promise.”

***

Together, the prince and princess descended from the tower. Everywhere the dead stood still, but where Arthur passed they turned back to life, until the entire castle was once again living and moving. The kitchen maids continued their quarrel, the merchant his bargain, the dogs their yapping play. In the grand throne room, the king rose from his seat and embraced his son and the woman who saved him, thanking her for freeing them from the magic.

A grand feast was organised, to celebrate the end of the curse. The cobwebs were cleaned away by an army of diligent servants, eager to move again, and the tables in the grand hall were loaded with food. 

The prince was seated at the head of the table, his father on one side, and his betrothed on the other. Merlin, however, was tossed into the dungeons after Sophia’s false accusations. There he woke up, and there he spent the feast. He only had the servants’ leftovers to eat, which they threw onto the ground of his cell, angry as they were that he had refused to save their prince. It took him days before a servant was merciful enough to explain what he had been accused of. She did not believe him when he told her he was innocent, but the next day she did bring his food on a plate. 

However, no plates could soften the pain Merlin suffered as he was locked up unjustly, and Sophia was to be Arthur’s bride. So he wept bitter tears, flooding the valleys with raindrops. 

Many days passed in this manner. 

Then, prince Arthur decided that he would go out and travel. King Uther found out that fifty years had passed since the enchantment had taken effect, and that the lands that had once belonged to Camelot were now considered parts of other kingdoms. The prince had spent most of his time bowed over detailed maps with his father, trying to find a way to win back their land, but it had become pretty clear that they would not figure it out like that. 

Therefore, Arthur decided that it would be best if he went travelling for a while. He was eager to leave the old castle, and this way he could learn more about what had become of the world during his death. 

Since Arthur was a noble prince, who was well aware that the curse meant for him and his father had affected many innocent people too, he came with a very generous offer. Everyone in the castle was allowed to ask him for something to bring from his travels. He asked all those in the castle what present he could bring them. No one was passed over, not the stable boys nor the visitors, and even the beggars could ask him their wish.

Because he had promised that no one was to be excluded, he did not forget the poor peasant locked in the dungeon, either. And so it happened that the prince descended the dark steps to visit his prisoner.

***

When Merlin heard the footsteps on the stairs, his heart clenched. He didn’t recognise these steps, so it wouldn’t be Gwen coming down to talk with him. Quickly, he wiped away the tears that had been flowing down his face. If they came to taunt him, he couldn’t let them show he cared. Maybe then they’d get bored and send Gwen again. At least she talked to him like he was a person. 

Straightening his back, Merlin waited for the man - because it was definitely a man, stomping away like that - to arrive. Even if they doused him with old ale again, at least he’d see another human being. There were no other prisoners in the dungeons (apparently the king had thought they served their sentence by being dead for twenty-odd years), and after spending three years with nothing but dead people for company, Merlin was desperate to see just about anyone. 

Most of all, he was desperate to see one particular person. Not that that would ever happen. The prince had better things to do than-

His visitor stepped into the light of the torches lined on the wall, and Merlin found that he couldn’t think anymore. He couldn’t think, or blink, or breathe. He couldn’t do anything but stare at the beautiful man in front of him. 

Arthur looked so good. He looked so good that it physically hurt Merlin to look at him. There was a rosy sheen on his face, and his hair reflected the light like spun gold. He had the bluest eyes Merlin had ever seen in his life. 

And then, outside, the sun finally broke through the weeks of clouds, bathing the whole castle in a warm light. The rain stopped and the clouds dissipated as Merlin stared at his prince, alive and well, and let his joy rage through his whole being.

“You’re alive,” Merlin brought out breathlessly. 

***

Arthur took a step back. He was honestly a little freaked out by the man’s reaction. He had expected the man to be either angry or repentant at the sight of the crown prince. He hadn’t expected him to be so damn gleeful.

“Eh… Yeah?” Arthur replied hesitatingly. “No thanks to you, though.”

“You look much better than before,” the prisoner mused, his eyes turning misty. “Death is not a good look on you, all pasty white and stuff.”

Arthur was really regretting his own noble heart now. Why hadn’t he taken a guard with him to confront this raving lunatic? Besides, he couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. It was not nice being reminded that technically, he was just a surprisingly fit zombie, especially by someone who hadn’t even bothered to resurrect him. 

Arthur frowned at the thought of this man watching him while he was dead, staring at his own corpse. A shiver passed over his spine. To be seen dead by his soon-to-be wife was one thing. This guy was something else completely. 

“I wish I could say the same about you, but I didn’t really get a look at your passed out face before, and you sure look like shit now.”

It was not a nice thing to say, but Arthur did not like the way this man was looking at him. It was making him doubt all kinds of things that he had no intention of questioning. 

“I suppose it had to be hard to hear everybody laugh about how Sophia knocked you out,” Arthur snarked on. “Wouldn’t have expected that looking at her, fragile thing that she is. I suppose you’re just really weak then, aren’t you?”

The man furrowed his brows and shook his head. 

“That’s not what happened,” he said, his tone deadly serious. “She’s lying to you.”

Arthur felt a wave of rage surge up in him. How dare this man accuse his fiancée of lying? 

“It was incredibly generous of me to honour you with my presence,” he gritted through his teeth. “Do not take advantage of my good nature to slander the princess, or I will do what I should have done from the very beginning and slaughter you.”

The prisoner stared at him for a baffled moment, as if he couldn’t believe Arthur had just spoken to him like that. Then he shook his head incredulously and  _ laughed. _

“Gods, I knew you’d be a prat,” the man said with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, “but you’re truly something else.”

“I- I beg your pardon?” Arthur sputtered. 

“Pardon granted,” the young man replied cheekily. 

This was ridiculous! He had come here out of the goodness of his heart, and rather than grovel with remorse, his prisoner was mocking him!

With resolution carved on his visage, the prince turned on his heel and stalked away. 

He had only taken a few steps when the prisoner called out to him.

“Arthur!” the melodious voice echoed through the empty vaults. 

The prince frowned at the usage of his given name, but cast a look over his shoulder nonetheless. The prisoner had moved forward, grasping the bars of his cell with desperate hands. 

“I apologise,” the man said, and Arthur was surprised by the genuinity in his eyes. “It was wrong of me to offend you.” He tried on a tentative smile, before adding, only half-joking, “I really am innocent, though.

Arthur shook his head in disbelief and continued his route for the stairs. 

“Wait!” the man called again, and again, the prince obeyed. He didn’t know why he even bothered - the man was surely going to make yet another insolent remark. Still, Arthur couldn’t deny that the young prisoner had some kind of effect on him. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes that made it hard to doubt his honesty, or maybe the fact that even weeks in a mouldy dungeon hadn’t effaced any of his beauty. 

Maybe it was even the very fact of his insolence that intrigued (and if he were honest, attracted) the prince. There was no one in this castle who would dare defy him like this, least of all someone so low and despised as this prisoner. He posed a challenge, Arthur thought, and there lay his charm. After all, the prince had never been one to shy away from a challenge. 

If this peasant wanted to play games with him, Arthur decided, then very well, he would play along. But like with any competition, only one could reign victorious, and Arthur had no doubts in his mind about who that would be. 

Seizing up the prisoner, he was quite pleased to see the man starting to squirm under his gaze. Arthur stared at him for a little bit longer, just for good measure.  Finally, he asked: “So what is your name?”

“What?” The boy stared at him, clearly stupified by the question.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow. “I have to say, I’ve never met anyone who goes by ‘What’ before.”

The man rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth were twitching. At the sight of his small smile, Arthur couldn’t help but grin himself. If the man could awaken such strange cheerfulness in him with only the ghost of a smile, Arthur wondered what the radiance of his full joy would do to him.

“My name is Merlin,” the man supplied. His cheeks had taken on a rosy hue, almost as if the question had flattered him. 

“Good,” Arthur replied. He ascertained that his tone was curt and formal, just to do away with any illusions the man -  _ Merlin _ \- had come up with. “At least you now no longer have the advantage of knowing my name while I am unfamiliar with yours.”

Merlin just snorted. “If you’re concerned about there being unequal information, I’m afraid you’ve a lot of catching up to do.”

Arthur tried to read the meaning of his words from his countenance, but Merlin’s gaunt face did not betray any deceit. 

“What are you talking about?” the prince tried, as regally as he could. 

“Well, I know quite a lot about you. Morgana really didn’t spare any details.”

Before he was even aware of it, Arthur had stomped back to the cell, yanking at the boy’s neckkerchief until his face was pressed against the bars. 

Leaning over until their noses nearly touched, Arthur let out a growl.

“How the  _ fuck  _ do you know about Morgana?!”

If the prince’s snarl inspired any fear in the peasant, he didn’t show it. He merely shrugged, though his sheepish expression stopped at his eyes, which were trained intently on the prince’s nearby lips.

“It was in the book,” he said after a beat. His adam’s apple bobbed, and Arthur was close enough to hear the tempo of his breathing speed up. “The whole history of what happened, it was all in the book.”

“And how do you know that?” Arthur asked wearily. He was still clutching the worn fabric around the other’s neck, keeping their faces inches apart. That was necessary. For the investigation. Into the truth of…  _ Whatever _ . He was  _ not  _ letting go.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “How do I know what’s in the book?” he repeated. “Because I read it, of course.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Arthur said, because it clearly didn’t. He motioned up and down at the man’s clothes. “You’re a peasant,” he pronounced slowly. Maybe this boy was even dumber than he looked. Either that or he was lying to his face. “Peasants can’t read.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose, reaching through the bars to place his hands against the prince’s chest and push him away. The touch of those warm hands startled Arthur so much that he promptly let go of the neckkerchief and retreated a step. Merlin shot him an inscrutable look and continued to theatrically rub his throat. 

“Maybe in  _ your time _ peasants weren’t allowed to go to school, but we’ve emancipated a bit in the past decades,” he snarked. 

Arthur stared at him for a moment. Was the shameless oaf truly calling him  _ old _ ?

“Besides,” Merlin continued, either ignorant or uncaring about the prince’s wounded pride, “I am hardly an ordinary peasant.”

Arthur scoffed. “Don’t try to be mysterious, it doesn’t suit you.”

“It’s true!” Merlin protested indignantly. “I am probably the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth. There are even some prophecies about it!”

At the sound of  _ that  _ word, Arthur jumped forward again, pressing his hand against Merlin’s mouth before the idiot could speak another fatally incriminating word. Merlin’s eyes widened at the touch of the leather glove covering his lips.

“Are you out of your mind?” Arthur hissed. “Do you have any idea what my father would do to you if he heard you confess such crimes?”

Merlin nodded, and the prince slowly removed his hand. 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Merlin said quickly. “But magic is not punished in my land, so I’m not so used to hushing it up. And it’s not like your father has the jurisdiction to burn anyone anymore.” He smiled apologetically.

It was quite a rude thing to remind him of their complete loss of power, Arthur thought, although he was relieved his father could no longer sentence innocent people to death. Speaking of death, his had clearly befuddled his mind, because only now did Arthur realise the implications of Merlin’s confession.

“If you are a sorcerer,” he said slowly, his mind whirring in an attempt to understand the motives of the strange prisoner before him, “then why didn’t you use your powers to escape?”

For the first time since he had seen him, Merlin cast his eyes down. His next words were muttered so indistinctively that the prince had to ask him to repeat them.

“If I fled, I would have confirmed your accusations, and I didn’t want you to think of me that way. I suppose I thought I could convince you that I’m innocent.” He looked up again, and Arthur wa shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes. “It’s alright though,” he said, before the prince could interrupt. “I understand why you choose to believe her. At least I tried,” he concluded ruefully. He shot Arthur a wavering smile, as if embarrassed by his own emotion.

Taken aback by the sudden somber atmosphere, Arthur just stood there, wordless. 

It was Merlin who broke the silence. “So why did you actually come here?”

Oh. Right. He had come here for a reason. Arthur scraped his throat. 

“I will be travelling these new lands for the foreseeable future, and I promised to bring back a gift for everyone in the castle. That includes you.”

When Merlin didn’t give a clear reaction, Arthur decided to be more straight-forward. “Is there anything you want?”

In lieu of being overcome with gratitude at this display of generosity (who was Arthur kidding, he knew the man well enough by now that it would be useless to expect such a thing), Merlin just stared at him with a fazed expression. After a moment of silence, he shook his head.

“It is enough to see you alive and healthy again,” he said softly. The sincerity in his voice tugged violently at Arthur’s heartstrings, and for a moment he was convinced that Merlin had spoken the truth, that he was truly innocent. He immediately try to abandon the thought; it was much more likely that he simply felt repentant for his earlier negligence. Still, sweet as his words might have been, the prince had promised to give him a present, and so for a present he must ask.

After a few moments of pressuring, Merlin finally surrendered. “If you really must gift me something,” he said gravely, “I would like you to bring me the box of patience, the box of sorrow and the sword of blood."

“Those are three presents,” Arthur commented, but Merlin waved him away. “They’re sort of a package deal.”

“All right,” the prince said. “I’m not sure whether I’ll remember all of those, but I’ll try my best.”

“You’ll remember them,” the sorcerer replied. “You won’t be able to leave without them.”

Arthur let out a nervous chuckle. “Ominous,” he said, because honestly, what could he say to that? It seemed, however, that all Merlin’s previous playfulness had left him. With a melancholy sigh, he retreated back to the other side of his cell, where he sagged down onto the floor. 

Unsure what to do, and quite uncomfortable with the dark turn that their conversation had apparently taken, Arthur awkwardly raised his hand in a little wave. 

“Well, this is goodbye then, I suppose,” he ventured. “It was nice talking to you!”

After those words, which were met with silence, the prince quickly walked away. Why did he have to say that?  _ It was nice talking to you _ ? The man was a prisoner, he had probably just been waiting for Arthur to finally leave! 

The prince took the stairs with two steps at a time, anything to get away as soon as possible from the bewildering conversation that had just taken place.

***

A few days later, the prince said goodbye to his bride, gathered some seamstresses to prepare her wedding gown, and departed on his long voyage. 

He travelled through lands familiar with people unknown, crossing through forests and over seas. He visited many a stunning city, where he bought the most precious presents for his beautiful fiancée. Wherever he went, he was also sure to remember the gifts asked of him by the others in the castle, and he purchased them all without parsimony. Yet with all these cares, the wishes of the warlock in the dungeons slipped his mind. On the last day of his journey, the prince readied his ship to return homeward. No winds, however, filled his sails. The ship didn’t budge a hair and remained securely anchored in the port. The crew were unable to understand this strange phenomenon: no matter how they toiled and sweat, the ship didn’t move. Then the prince remembered his oversight. Leaving the ship, he promised his men that they would be able to sail out in a few hours. Until then, he would roam the city a bit, for he had forgotten something. 

Winding through the streets of the port town, he inquired with several merchants after the box of patience, the box of sorrow and the sword of blood. Although the words sparked recognition in their eyes, none of them possessed the goods he was looking for, and each sent him on to another. Finally, he arrived at a small shop, hidden in the shadows at the side of a pebbled alley. The shopkeeper was an ancient woman, with tangled grey hair and a face rich in wrinkles. 

“The box of patience, the box of sorrow and the sword of blood,” she croaked, “Yes, I do have those. They are destined for someone who is suffering much and unjustly.”

The prince was reminded of the strange man in his captivity. Surely he did suffer, but not unjustly so - he owed it to his own choices, didn’t he? Didn’t he? 

Still, he was unable to leave these foreign shores as long as he hadn’t obtained the requested objects. Therefore, he bought the valuable box of patience, and that of sorrow, and the razor-sharp sword of blood. 

Hastily, he returned to his ship, and found that a powerful wind had risen that rapidly brought them back to his native lands. 

His return to the castle was celebrated lavishly, and during the festivities prince Arthur presented the beautiful Sophia with the many jewels and rich fabrics he had bought for her. The daughter of the fallen king looked at all these treasures with tears in her eyes. She would finally be able to live again as befit a lady of her birth. The other occupants of the castle were equally happy with their gifts, and they praised the young prince for his kindness during the whole feast. 

Only when the feast had ended, all its participants retiring to their chambers, did the prince turn his gaze to the last gifts yet to be gifted. 

***

He had only heard them once before, and yet Merlin immediately recognised the footsteps descending into the dungeons. 

The sound of relief he let out closely resembled a sob, and not without reason. The past weeks had been horrible. With Arthur gone, there was no one left in the castle that Merlin wanted to stay for. Many times did he wonder whether he should do as the prince had suggested and use his magic to escape. Still, what he had told Arthur had been the truth. He would never be able to flee from this castle. Merlin would rather die than confirm Sophia’s lies. After three years of being alone, Merlin was surprised that the isolated dungeon affected him so deeply. He knew what the difference was: before, he had still been hopeful, working towards a goal. Now he knew all hope was lost. The prince he had waited for so patiently would marry another in his place, and Merlin would waste away in the dark dungeons for the rest of his miserable life. 

The only thing that kept him going was the thought that Arthur would return soon, carrying the objects Merlin had asked of him. The sorcerer was aware that his solution was a drastic one, but the weeks of darkness and outright disgust of the few people who bothered to visit him, had finally proven too much. At least, he thought melancholically, he would get to see Arthur one last time. 

Lost as he was in his own somber thoughts, Merlin didn’t see the prince until he was standing right in front of him. He looked healthy, if a bit tired, and was holding three wrapped shapes in his arms. 

Momentarily forgetting his existential dread, Merlin let his eyes roam over the figure of his beloved prince, drinking in the sight of him. 

“You’re back,” he said breathlessly.

Arthur chuckled, probably surprised at the adoration that must undoubtedly be plastered all over Merlin’s face. “I know,” he replied with a crooked grin. “People tend to do that when they travel.”

Somehow, Merlin found himself unable to return the prince’s light tone. Instead, he let his eyes drift towards the items in the prince’s arms. 

“You found them,” he observed. In his chest, something that might have been disappointment flared up. 

“You’re being quite astute today, aren’t you?” Arthur quipped. “Yes, I am here, and yes, I brought the stuff you wanted. The two are actually related, since  _ someone _ prevented my boat from leaving without these things. Thanks for that, by the way,” he added sarcastically.

Merlin’s eyes flitted back and forth between the prince’s face and the bundle he was holding. On the one hand, he wanted to take in Arthur’s beautiful face and never stop staring at it. On the other, his fingers were itching to finally touch the items that would bring him the redemption he had so desperately yearned for.

Stretching his arms out between the bars of his cell, Merlin reached for his gifts. Before he could get them, though, a strong hand closed around his wrist.

“I was quite curious what the purpose of these things is,” Arthur drawled, keeping them just out of Merlin’s reach. “After all, I spent a lot of time and money getting them.”

“I can’t tell you,” Merlin said briskly. He didn’t understand why Arthur would torture him like this. Wasn’t it bad enough that he would marry Sophia? Did he really have to tease Merlin as well?

“I need them,” Merlin added when the prince didn’t hand over the gifts. 

“Are they magical? They seem magical.”

“No.. Yes… I don’t know,” Merlin confessed. “They’re supposed to contain some kind of magic, but it’s nothing like the kind of magic I can control.” 

He sighed at the sight of Arthur’s confused expression. “I really don’t feel like giving you a whole lecture on this topic, okay?”

Arthur nodded, but still didn’t move, much to Merlin’s annoyance. “Will they help you escape?”

The phrasing conjured up a wry smile on Merlin’s face. “In a way.”

“Alright then,” the prince resigned, and let go of Merlin’s wrist. The loss of contact made the sorcerer whimper. He really had missed feeling a human touch, especially of the one he so loved, even after all his prattish behaviour. 

With trembling fingers, Merlin took over his long-awaited gifts and placed them reverently on the dusty floor of his cell. 

“I suppose you won’t show me how you use them?” Arthur ventured. Merlin merely shook his head, captivated by the shining wood of the boxes and the glinting blade of the sword.

“Okay,” the prince said. He dawdled a bit, apparently reluctant to leave, but finally shot Merlin a tentative smile. “Then I guess this is goodbye?”

Merlin nodded. He was afraid that if he looked up, Arthur would see the tears streaming from his eyes, and so he listened, head bowed, as his prince walked out of his life forever.

On the last moment, he changed his mind. 

“Arthur?” he called out. The echo repeated his broken voice through the dungeons. When he looked up, he could see the prince turn around at the end of the hall. 

“What is it, Merlin?” he called back, and the concern in his eyes made Merlin’s heart ache.

He took a moment to recollect himself, but voice still wavered when he spoke. 

“Thank you.”

The blinding smile on Arthur’s face was almost enough to make him reconsider.

***

Turning around, Arthur made his way out of the dungeons. Stomping up the stairs, he made certain his exit would be heard. Once he reached the threshold back into the castle, the prince stood still. After a few seconds pause, he carefully toed off his boots and tiptoed back down the stairs. 

His woollen socks made no sound on the stone steps, and the shadows obscured his figure. His caution proved successful when he peeked around a corner and could see Merlin in his cell, clearly oblivious as to the prince's presence. 

The young man had acted so strangely today, Arthur thought to himself. Not that Merlin had been particularly ordinary the last time they’d spoken, but the change was clear to see. The punishment was taking its toll, and Arthur would be glad to see him escape. Against all odds, he had taken a liking to the young sorcerer, and he wasn’t sure if he could bear to watch him wither away, even if he did technically leave Arthur for dead. 

(If he really even did that. Arthur was having a harder and harder time believing that this man wouldn’t help a stranger in need. And truly, his fiancée did seem more interested in his riches than in the prince himself. But he could hardly ask Sophia if she had lied, and there were no other people alive at the time to support Merlin’s claim.)

Whatever had happened, the prince was not going to leave Merlin alone now. The man’s desperation for the strange boxes and swords had made him suspicious - and, if he were honest, a little worried. Surely there would be no harm done if he waited around for a little while longer.

With bated breath Arthur waited in his hide-away, curious to find out what mysterious purpose Merlin had for the presents he had asked for.

One by one, Merlin placed the items before him. Then, he opened the lids of the two boxes and began to speak. 

“Box of patience and box of sorrow,” he said, the pain in his voice almost too much to bear, “grant me the patience to endure my sorrow.”

The flickering light of the torches played over the sorcerer's face, which was contorted with misery as he talked. He spoke of a bird with an ominous message, about the flight from his village and his arrival at the castle gate. He regaled of his three years by the dead prince’s bedside, and of his fear of undoing it all by falling asleep in those last hours, about the woman he had asked for help who had deceived him. He poured out his heart, his history, everything that had happened to him, and around the corner, the prince listened. 

“And so I have been locked away here, while Sophia marries Arthur and I am forever hated,” he concluded, tears streaming over his face. 

Arthur could barely suppress his own tears as he listened to the story, for he knew in his heart that it was true. 

Then a voice came from the first box, high and clear. “You have spoken the truth, Emrys,” it declared. 

A second voice came from the other box. “Your sorrow is great, and greatly unjust,” it added. 

Covering his face in his hands, Merlin sobbed. Then, he wiped his sleeve over his eyes and sat up, a sudden resolution coming over his form.

“Sword of blood,” he said solemnly, “relieve me from my suffering.”

Time seemed to stand still as Arthur watched the sword rise into the air. Its sharp edge gleamed in the darkness. Merlin bowed down, offering his neck.

“NO!”

With a power he had never known he possessed, Arthur dashed towards the hovering sword. Right before his eyes, the blade slung back to prepare for its deadly blow. 

For a moment, Arthur thought he would be too late.

Then his right hand passed between the bars and clasped around the hilt. He yanked the sword up with all his might. It swung upwards, only barely avoiding Merlin’s vulnerable neck, until it collided loudly with the prison bars. 

Keeping both hands on the magical sword, which was still fighting against his hold, Arthur slumped against the bars and closed his eyes, listening to his heart thump loudly in his throat.

After a moment, Arthur opened his eyes again, and looked down. At the man he had saved. At the man who had saved him. 

Slowly, Merlin raised his head, as if he were unable to believe it was still attached to his body. When his eyes met Arthur’s, the sword gave up all struggle and fell on the floor with a clang.

Arthur followed suit, falling to his knees on the cold stone. Stretching out his arms, he cradled Merlin’s awestruck face in his hands. 

“You are such an idiot,” he said with a watery smile, eyes overflowing with relief. He gripped Merlin a little tighter, relishing the way the boy’s cheeks warmed under his touch. 

“Arthur…” Merlin choked, and then they were both crying, holding each other as close as the iron bars that separated them would allow. 

Once their bodies had stopped trembling, Arthur looked at the man before him. Rising to his knees, he walked over to the door of Merlin’s cell and unlocked it.

“I am so sorry-” he began, but he found no words to continue. There was no way to apologise for all the suffering he had caused, for the pain he had inflicted on someone who had sacrificed so much for him. He couldn't blame Merlin if he decided to leave after all, if he were unable to forgive the prince for his near-fatal blindness. 

But Merlin did not leave. Instead, the young sorcerer leapt into the prince's arms, and kissed him so deeply, so passionately, that Arthur almost fell to the floor again. 

"I'll forgive you," Merlin said when they finally separated for a breath. "But only if you marry me,  _ sire _ ." 

Arthur had no trouble accepting those terms.

***

And so it came to be that Merlin was freed from his unjust captivity and married the prince of Camelot. The traiterous Sophia was thrown out of the castle, and was never seen again. 

The wedding lasted for four days and four nights, and not for once did the prince let go of his husband's hand. 

On the last day of celebrations, the old shopkeeper that had sold Arthur the magical objects came to visit. In the bright light of the dining hall did the prince recognise his sister, although she had lived outside the castle's curse and was now seventy years old. 

(Merlin cheekily remarked that it was really quite pervy of Arthur to marry someone who was fifty years his junior, which instantly granted him Morgana's approval.)

Morgana told them how had spent her life travelling the world, first to find and defeat Morgause, and later using her magic to help those in need. And although she had missed her brother terribly, she did for one second regret the beautiful life she had led.

  
  


Knights were sent out to retrieve Hunith and Will, who had thought Merlin dead and mourned for him all those years. When they were finally reunited, they all cried and smiled so much that the sky was filled with rainbows. 

No matter how much he had suffered, Merlin would never regret the path that had led him to Arthur's side. Every day he thanked the little bird that had visited him so long ago in the field. He now knew that this bird had been a bird of happiness, for it had brought him to the love of his life. 

Uther, who had never been the same after his resurrection, soon recognised his son's capabilities and renounced himself from the duties of king, leaving Arthur to reign in his stead. 

Their kingdom was a small one, consistent of lands that had never been claimed by others, or that had been given back after the world had found out about the miraculous events that had taken place in the castle. Arthur made for a good and fair king, always helped by the consort at his side. The sun shone brightly over their heads, for the days were scarce when Merlin didn't smile. Yet when the farmers came complaining about their harvest again, the consort wept bitter tears of sadness, and a fruitful rain downed on the fields. It was the best weather arrangement anyone could hope for. 

I could go on forever about the legends that were sparked during that golden age, and the many adventures they lived through. For now, however, I will have to conclude this tale. So I hope you can take my word for it when I say that they lived, indeed, happily ever after.

  
  


**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been an absolute pleasure to adapt this wonderful fairytale to thiw wonderful show. I have really enjoyed all of the lovely comments you left on the previous chapter (or on any of my works for that matter), it is super rewarding to see people enjoy my stories (especially this noe, because I hadn't really expected for anyone to be interested in some weird obscure fairy tale retelling) Please let me know what you thought or leave a kudos, because it truly lightens up my day <3
> 
> I also promised some of you to add the original version of this fairy tale. I had intended to do that in these end notes, but I am so tired that I think I'll just add them as an extra chapter some time :) 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this, I love this fandom and its readers so incredibly much, you really make it worth staying up writing until 5 am (at least, that's what i say now, I'll undoubtedly have changed my mind tomorrow morning :P )  
> I hope you have a lovely night, sending you all the love xxxxx


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